


a collection

by Aroundthepen (keithkohgane)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ML Fandom Week 2016, Panic Attacks, uhhhhhh lots of stuff without plot probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithkohgane/pseuds/Aroundthepen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this was supposed to be fandom week but i didn't finish all my prompts on time so i'm just throwing the rest in here so i don't have to look at them</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. family

**Author's Note:**

> day 1: marinette loves her family so much more than she can give.
> 
> mari cracks under the pressure of being a superhero sometimes poor bby. i am a firm believer in ur friends being the family u choose. i'm still v iffy about this and idk what it is. kinda vague. enjoy????

_watching through my fingers_ \- good grief; bastille

* * *

 

This happens sometimes. Not often, and not nearly enough to worry anyone about it, but it does happen.

The images that flash so vividly in her head; the very real, very painful hurting; the way the air seems to solidify around her, her lungs working overtime trying to keep her breathing. A sickening film that loops every couple of months and drags her cruelly from the security of peace of mind.

Marinette blames her overactive imagination.

It can’t be normal for someone to think this much about their loved ones dying, right? To see play-by-play scenes of their deaths, of the aftermath, to imagine the pain that probably comes with it.

Maybe it’s a superhero thing. Maybe she’s so afraid of losing them because she has them in such a vulnerable position. Maybe her mind just likes to toy with her.

She just can’t seem stop her head from going there, from imagining all these horrible things, no matter how much it destroys her each time. The people she loves, ripped out of her hands and dying right in front of her eyes.

She doesn’t know why she does it. She thinks that might be the most unsettling thing about it, that she doesn’t know why it happens. It’s like Hawkmoth has reached inside her and turned everything cold. No matter how much she and Chat Noir fight him, he has this part of her.

Some of them are worse than others.

Today, it’s everyone. Her entire family.

She’s in the bathroom of her lycée and as she washes her hands she lets her mind wander and suddenly everyone she loves is dead. She’s watching it happen, a perfectly made film set to unravel her.

They go one by one. Her father, mother, Nino, Alya, Adrien, and Chat Noir. Hawkmoth plucks them from her protection. She watches them lying cold and still, caught in his web. Her hands scrabble blindly against the set of the bathroom trying to reach them, to save them, knowing she can’t.

She feels her whole chest being ripped to shreds. Tears sting her eyes and a ragged gasp tears through her. Deep, cold laughter echoes in the room.

She grips the sink and tries to anchor herself on her reflection. A toilet flushes in one of the stalls behind her.

Come on. She knows how to deal with this. All she has to do is leave the room and find her friends. Tikki can't come out in public.

The scene flashes before her again. She doesn’t know if she’s wearing the suit or not—it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s never enough to protect them.

“Stop it,” she tells herself, thudding her forehead against the mirror. “Stop it, stop it, stop it.”

Her hands shake as she pulls her phone out. Her uneven breathing is making it hard to pull out of the panic. She doesn’t have anything steady and rhythmic to lean on. Even her heartbeat has fallen out of time.

Her fingers have a difficult time tapping in the message on the screen, but she gets there.

 _jtm maman ❤_ , she types, sending it off as quickly as possible.

She sends an almost identical text to her father straight after, trying to steady her breaths. Every second they don’t answer is another blow to the heart.

“Next step is to get out,” she mutters. “Find people.”

Her trembling fingers pick up her school bag and she tears out of the bathroom. Flashes of her destroyed family keep interrupting her as she makes her way to somewhere— _anywhere_ —her friends could be.

Her breaths keep getting shorter and the tears are starting to spill and she starts to run faster, faster, faster. People are jumping out of her way now as she hiccoughs her way past them.

 _They’re fine_ , she chants in her head, the movie in her head going from bad to worse. Funerals and loneliness and—

 _They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine_ —

“Marinette? Marinette!”

Someone catches her as she runs past them, warm arms and a familiar smell enveloping her and suffocating her simultaneously.

“Hey hey hey, look at me.” Hands cup her face and she forces herself to lock onto amber gold eyes and to stay there. She feels a steady heartbeat in these hands.“Marinette.”

“Where are they, Nino?” she whispers. She can’t ask anyone about Chat Noir and it kills her. Each time this happens, it kills her a little more until she sees him on patrol. “Alya, a-and Adrien. Where are they Nino where are they—”

“They’re on their way. They were studying in the library, they’re on their way. Do you want to see Alya’s text?”

“No, n-no, it’s fine.” She trusts him more than she does herself right now.

 _They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine_ —

He wipes her cheeks with his thumb. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She find she can’t do anything but shake her head. She wraps her arms around Nino’s neck, trying to bury herself in his embrace. He takes her in his arms, unquestioning as always.

Sobbing into someone’s shoulder isn’t usually one of the things that helps her in this situation, but she can’t seem to stamp it down.

Everything comes crashing down inside her. The tears stream, and she feels her muscles loosen. Her breathing slows, but it drags along the ragged, ripped edges of her throat. As her grip on him goes slacker, his tightens around her.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, and even in her hysteria she can hear the note of panic in his voice. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

And all she can think is that no, it’s not okay. It’s not okay at all that she’s using him like this, soaking his shirt in her tears and knowing she won’t be able to tell him why, knowing she’s putting him in danger simply by being his friend. It feels like a betrayal of trust that she’s not able to tell him, and yet everything would be so much worse if he did.

So instead she just lets him hold her. This boy who has been her friend since they were six years old, with whom she made movies after he first saw ‘Les Petits Mouchoirs’, with whom she shared a first kiss because they were both so afraid of giving it to someone they didn’t like, who has stood by her for years as Marinette and years unknowingly as Ladybug. He is her family just as much as her parents are.

She could lose this, she could lose him. It would be all her fault. She wouldn’t be able to protect him from Hawkmoth, she wouldn’t be able to keep him safe. Her breaths start to shorten again.

The ping of her phone interrupts and Marinette pulls her face from Nino’s shoulder to look at her phone.

It’s her mother. _On t’aime aussi bichette ☺_.

The world rights itself a little. Just slanted now, not upside down. Her heart rate slows a little, safe for a while in the knowledge that her family is alright, okay, all good.

 _He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine_ —

She pulls back a little and his grip loosens but he keeps one arm around her shoulders.

“You good for now?” he asks, concern painted everywhere on his face.

“I’m good,” she nods. _For now._ “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Chat Noir’s safety will worry her until she sees him again. She knows he can take care of himself, but _but but_ —

She wipes her eyes. How heroic of her to break down like this. Half of her wishes she could melt into the floor so she doesn’t have to feel the shame of knowing Ladybug broke down because she got scared of her own imagination. The other half is too fragile to do anything but muster a soft smile to hide it all.

She sees Alya and Adrien turn the corner of the hallway and see her. She waves.

( _He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine_ —)

Nino takes it as his cue to leave the matter behind. He won’t say anything, not even to Alya.

She steadies herself on the feeling of his warm arm wrapped around her and a cold knowledge that she will one day find Hawkmoth, and she will finish him.

He will not touch her family, she promises herself. She will be strong enough to stop this. Just this, at least this.

( _He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine_ —)


	2. friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost, they are friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s a lot of dialogue which is??? most unlike me. also this has no plot. or structure. slice of life i guess??? yeah. slice of life. have the squad.

_ learn forever hand in hand _ \- feel good inc.; gorillaz

* * *

 

“Can you—”

“No.”

“Um. Please, could you—”

“Nope.”

Marinette huffs. “Alya come on. I need to—”

“I thought we’d established I wasn’t going to move.”

“Alya, my legs have been dead for the last thirty minutes. I need to  _ move _ .”

Marinette tries to glare at her but Alya doesn’t see it the way she’s lying on her stomach. She’s too tired to keep it up anyway. They’ve been studying for hours and Nino’s bedroom floor has not been kind to her bum. She’s sore in her brain and her backside and she can’t even feel her legs anymore.

“You’re terrible,” she groans, dropping her history textbook on Alya’s back.

“Ow!”

Alya scrunches herself around Marinette’s legs with a whine and Marinette takes the opportunity to bend her knees a little, tucking Alya up to her chest. A horribly uncomfortable tingling rushes to her legs.

“You realise this is just going to make her not want to move even more,” Nino says from his desk chair.

Marinette sighs. “I know. But it’s either she lets me move, or you bring me my copybook.”

“But then  _ I _ would have to move.”

“You’re terrible too, Nino.”

“Nah, I’m not.”

Marinette opens her mouth to reply but Adrien gently interrupts.

“Here,” he says, lifting her school bag over to her from his spot on the bed.

“Thanks,” she smiles. “You’re officially my favourite.”

He laughs, warm and lovely. “A title I’ll spend every waking moment trying to live up to.”

“That’s unfair,” Alya grumbles, turning over on her back. “You can’t just pick your favourite based on their manners.”

“I can and I will.” Marinette pokes her in the stomach and Alya sticks her tongue out. “At least you’re Nino’s favourite.”

Alya smiles winningly in Nino’s direction. “You’ve got my back babe, right?”

Nino swivels around. “Actually—”

“What?” Alya shrieks. Her elbow flies into Marinette’s stomach and, yeah, Marinette’s abdominal muscles are pretty hard (they’d have to be after a few years of superheroing around), but Alya’s elbows are sharper than she realises. “How could you?”

Nino shrugs, easy. “Marinette brought a gâche.”

“I’m your girlfriend! I’m the only one who’s gonna do that thing you like with the—”

Marinette scrambles out from underneath Alya and flops facedown on the bed. “Please don’t get into those kinds of conversations while we’re around.”

“I second that,” Adrien says.

She holds her hand out awkwardly for a high five. “Besides.” She lifts her head up to pout at Alya. “I thought you were vying for  _ my _ favouritism. What happened to best friends?”

“You sacrificed that when you chose that gross ball of sunshine over there.” Alya crosses her arms.

“That’s not fair, Alya,” Adrien says and Marinette doesn’t have to see him to know he’s wearing his mischief grin. “You know very well Vogue doesn’t take anything but the prettiest balls of sunshine.”

“True,” Marinette and Nino say in unison. They burst into laughter.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Agreste,” Alya says, folding her arms.

“Nonsense,” Adrien says. “This kind of beauty doesn’t fade.”

Nino laughs, Alya rolls her eyes, and Marinette groans.

“Nope,” she says. “I take it back. Alya is my favourite again.”

“Aha!”

“Hey! No take backs!”

“Definitely take backs.”

Nino chuckles. “Does this mean I was never even a contender?”

Marinette rolls over on her side and props herself up on her elbow to peer at him around Adrien.

“You don’t count,” she says. “We’ve known each other since we were three.”

“So I would be the best if I were in the running? Sweet.” He folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair.

“Well that’s hardly fair,” Adrien says, cocking his head at her.

She smiles sweetly up at him. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

He laughs again, and Marinette revels in the feeling of being able to make him laugh. It’s so commonplace now she almost doesn’t remember a time they were without it.

“I don’t have a chance then,” he says, collapsing backwards onto the bed, a position she matches with her feet by his head and his by hers.

“Not with jokes like that, I’m afraid.”

Alya snorts. “Go easy on the boy, Marinette. That’s bound to make him try harder.”

“God, Alya,” she says dramatically. “You’re right.”

She finds his cheek with her foot and nudges it, laughing with the other two when he sputters and scrabbles out of her way so much he falls off the bed.

His surprised yelp only serves to make them laugh harder and she can hardly hear his feigned indignance between her wheezes.

A few years ago, this would never have been. She would never have nudged his cheek with her foot, never have joked with him so easily, she wouldn’t even have gone near him so easily, never mind laying on the same bed. There wouldn’t be this uncomplicated spark between the four of them, a wavelength they’re all tuned into.

(She would also never have known how terrible Adrien’s jokes are which may or may not be a bad thing.)

They’ve turned into quite the dynamic. It’s something she marvels at sometimes, how in  _ together _ they all are. They’ve got their secrets, their lumps, their bumps, but there’s a baseline of friendship to it all that makes her think it doesn’t matter quite so much.

She’s glad she has this, has them. It keeps her sane. She’s thrilled with how close they’ve all grown. And most of all, she thinks as she peeks over the side of the bed to share a smile with him, she’s profoundly happy that she was brave enough to become Adrien’s friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. love square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cats and bugs can get along. yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sings from the rooftops] platonic love is just as important as romantic love!
> 
> here. freshly post-reveal adrien and marinette navigating their friendship.
> 
> i know i'm a day late i'm trying to catch up!!

_toss me over and cast the line_ \- the bird and the worm; owl city

* * *

 

Marinette looks up at Adrien and manages to hold his eyes for about nine seconds before she has to look away again. It’s longer than the last twenty three times she’s done so, but the way he smiles pleasantly— _amusedly_ , god—back at her is still enough to send her awkwardly breaking eye contact again and again.

He has waited patiently at the other end of her living room couch this whole time, never pushing her to explain why she called him here. Probably because he already knows why he’s here. Still, he’s being an annoyingly perfect gentleman about it.

It’s as if he’s not even fazed by any of this.

She looks up at him again quickly to make sure of that. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate she made him—still his favourite even after three years, if she does say so herself—raising his eyebrows pointedly. She looks away again, eyes falling on her own untouched mug on the coffee table.

She called him here to talk about it. Why can’t she seem to talk about it?

She takes an awkwardly stiff breath. Looks back to him. Sips her own hot chocolate.

“Are you alright, Marinette?”

The question is enough to prompt her to look at him.

“Fine, thanks,” she says, matching his pleasant politeness. But the clean cut manners feel weird so she continues, “I’m just…”

She hesitates.

“Checking?” he offers. _To see if this is actually happening_.

His smile is too sunny for her not to see the laughter behind it.

“No.” She’s just saying it to contradict him.

“Right.” He knows.

She rolls her eyes and resists the urge to poke him in his knee. Everything is still a little tilted right now.

Well for _her_ at least. He still looks like he’s heard there’s going to be reasonably good weather for the rest of the week.

“You never know,” she grumbles. “We _do_ deal in magic.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Touché.”

She turns her head away from him again only to turn back, impatient. “How are you so calm right now?”

His eyebrow raises. Amused, _again_.

“Because you need me to be,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“I do not! I need you to react like a normal human being would in this situation!”

He leans back into his seat and smiles at her, ever lovely. “Yes, you do. It’s the only thing keeping you in your seat right now.” His lips quirk. “And you know very well neither of us are normal human beings, nor is this a normal situation.”

She almost stands up just to prove him wrong. But he’ll know it’s just out of stubbornness. And she also knows he’s right. If he weren’t so calm she would have already done something reckless like, oh, jumping out a window for starters. It’s like her sanity is tied to his in a weird pulley system of panic and serenity. His steady, heartbeat calm is her rock.

Damn it why does he know her so well.

His smile spreads wider with genuinity. “But in all seriousness, Marinette, I’m not calm. I’m ecstatic.”

She snorts—she can’t help it. Of course he’s happy about this. _Why_ is he happy about this.

The more she looks at his smile the more she relaxes, as if it’s a balm in itself. (Which it is. But she wasn’t ready to tell Adrien that and she’s certainly _never_ going to give that information to him now that he can hang it over her head as—ugh. So. Confusing.)

“How could I be anything but happy?” he continues. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Think about it.” He scoots closer and she eyes the shrinking distance between them. “My best friend is my best friend. Best. Thing.”

His softer voice brings her eyes back up to his. So green in their sincerity. The sight alone makes her heart double in size.

“Yeah,” she says after a moment, “yeah, I guess. You’re Adrien—” she points at him “—whose best friend is Marinette—” she points to herself  “—who is Ladybug, whose best friend is Chat Noir—” points back at him “—who is you.”

She can see how hard he’s trying not to laugh.

“It’s like a…” she pauses. “A really weird friendship square.”

He laughs. “Exactly.” He proffers his mug. “To our weird friendship square.”

“To our weird friendship square.” She chinks his mug with hers.

They each take a sip and honestly, the hot chocolate helps. Adrien’s smile helps. Even if it does have black leather and a quip written all over it.

He’s right.They’re best friends.

This is the best thing to ever happen to her.

She pokes his knee. “I love you.”

He pokes her back. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendship love amirite


	4. character centric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chloé asks herself: does she care?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am fascinated by chloé.
> 
> i know i'm late!! i just hate letting things go unfinished.

_don’t hang around once the promise breaks or you’ll be there when the next one’s made_ \- ladder song; bright eyes

* * *

 

Chloé is annoyed. She is annoyed that Adrien doesn’t have time for her anymore. He now has to set out to call her at the same time every couple of days because he has other friends he loves more and who love him more. She’s annoyed at his friends for being nice enough to pull him in. She’s annoyed at _her_ for turning on the lights behind his eyes.

She’s annoyed that she still clings on to him anyway.

Chloé is resentful. She is resentful that he clings on to her too. It’s in a completely different way of course, because he doesn’t need her like she needs him but it makes hating him and hating herself harder. He clings to her because he feels guilty about not loving her anymore. And guilt  _for_ someone is too close to pity.

She’s resentful she’s someone who was ever once considered enough to be pitied.

(Adrien should take a look at his own life. Misfortune is in his DNA.)

Chloé is envious. She is envious of Adrien because despite the Shakespearean tragedy that is his life, he has managed to pull himself up and out of it all. The higher he climbs the lower she falls. She’s envious of everyone he loves because they love him back the way they’re supposed to, not the way she’s learnt to. Her love for him has morphed into a twisted, rotted thing that doesn’t lend itself to anything but envy and greed.

She’s envious that no matter how much she buys, steals, snatches, destroys, she will never have as much as the four of them do.

Chloé is hateful. She is hateful of a world that seems to hate her back. She hates the way she still wants the people in it to love her anyway. Or hate her. She hates the way she can’t tell the difference between the two sentiments anymore. People don’t even seem to have enough time to even hate her.

She hates the way she craves attention so much that she settled on wanting to be hated a long time ago.

(Maybe if she could hate more the poisonous love in her will simply fall awway.)

Chloé is greedy. She is greedy for everyone’s eyes and ears and everything else they can give. She is greedy for all the things she can’t have until she gets them and she wants more. She’s greedy for lips, money, fingers, words, _things_ , as if she can fill herself up with everything she wants and doesn’t have to live with what she is. There are too many holes in her and she doesn’t want to rattle anymore.

She’s greedy for the whole world.

Chloé is bored. She is bored of this cat and mouse game she plays with no one and everyone; messing with no one and with everyone, moving people across her own chess board that never seems to change its colours. She’s bored with her father, her butler, her friend, her not-so-friend… Herself.

She’s bored with the life she has already predicted.

Chloé is cruel. She is cruel to everything and everyone. She breaks things and she loves every minute of it. She loves to watch relationships crumbling, she loves to topple self esteem, she loves to watch the world on fire. She loves how much _fear_ she can inspire. She is cruel to everyone; no one is safe.

She’s cruel and not even she can avoid being collateral.

(She can’t breathe anymore but she watches someone fall.)

Chloé is proud. She is proud of her father, and of her status. She has access to the back doors of everything she could want. She is beautiful, she is cold, she is unattainable. She is proud of the way she has curled in on herself so much, she is too far gone for anyone to find her. She is proud in her isolation, her loneliness, in her ability to be every part a diamond: beautiful, cold, unattainable.

She’s proud of herself for learning how to be just as closed as the mother who cracked her open.

Chloé is hopeful. She is hopeful and she hates it. It’s stupid and reckless and it will destroy her. She can’t help it anyway. She sees that streak of red and she remembers every single time she was held in those arms, felt by those hands, watched by those blue, blue eyes. Ladybug saves her time and again and it’s poison because she starts to believe she’s worth it, she’s worth saving. The last thing Chloé wants is to be saved. She is fierce in the position she has lowered herself to.

She’s hopeful and she is burning.

Chloé is hollow. She is hollow and growing more hollow every day with all the poison she lets in. One day there will be nothing left, like a Russian nesting doll who has lost all her ladies. She doesn’t know if she wants to be hollow or to be whole again—she’s not sure which would hurt more.

She’s hollow and yet she still manages to cut herself on her own edges.

Chloé asks herself: does she care?


	5. secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> secrets are like stars. they're there, and then they're really there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ???????????????????????????? what??????????????? is this??????????????? i don't kno m8 u tell me

_ how wonderful life is while you’re in the world _ \- your song; elton john

* * *

 

“The stars sure are beautiful tonight,” Adrien whispers.

Marinette snorts. Then she covers her mouth with her hand, sitting up to check if Alya and Nino wake up. Their snores sound the all clear.

She settles back down on the floor, head-to-head with Adrien as they lie staring at his bedroom ceiling. He had stuck a bunch of little plastic glow in the dark stars all over it, illuminating the near-darkness that rests softly on them now.

“You shouldn’t make me laugh,” she whispers back. “We’ll wake them up.”

“You and I both know Alya wouldn’t wake up if there was an akuma raging in the room.”

“Yes she would.”

“You’re right she would. But not for anything else, even if an active volcano sprouted up under the Eiffel Tower.”

She bites her lip. “What did I say about making me laugh?”

He hums, and reaches his arm up behind his head to catch her hand. She twines her fingers happily with his.

She adjusts her head, sliding the curve of her skull into the curve of Adrien’s neck and shoulder. His breath pauses for a moment but she’s learnt that that’s more him settling to accommodate her weight, her space in his, than it is him being uncomfortable.

Sure enough he starts breathing again a second later, more relaxed and almost more musical sounding than before. Well, she’s not sure about the musical part. A lot of what he does is another work of art to her. So she may be biased.

When his pulse beats at her temple, she finds she doesn’t really care if she is or not. She’s allowed to be.

(She’s in—)

“Love to hear you laugh, though” he mumbles, the hot breath of his words washing up on her jaw.

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from waking up the whole room.

“Sap,” she whispers back.

It’s his turn to laugh and it rattles a little box in her chest. It’s a familiar box. She knows it’s hers, and that it could never belong to anyone else. She doesn’t know quite when it turned up, but she knows that it feels like it was always meant to be there.

It’s like the stars. She can’t remember the first time she noticed them, but they were always there and they are always beautiful. A comfort and a piece of herself in the world.

Everyone identifies with the stars, right?

She reaches her free hand back and cards her fingers through his hair.

He purrs, nuzzling her hand. “Your sap.”

Usually, when he says something like that, she’ll kiss him, or smile, or roll her eyes, or even say something just as sappy. But as she feels him here, his cheek to hers, his breath like hers, his heart with hers; something locks.

Into place? Out of place? Something entirely different?

She doesn’t know, but whatever it is, it makes Marinette  _ breathe _ .

She loves him, she’s always loved him, she’s always  _ known _ she loves him. Friend, partner, crush, sweetheart; all of these things in one now. There’s another level there now, she can feel it. Like a secret she’s been keeping from herself without knowing it.

That little box in her chest rattles again, but the door is open now and whatever was in it floods her body. A river of chills and warmth and a million things in between. Everything feels so much deeper, like the world has another dimension she never knew existed, never mind explored. Her cheeks heat up.

(She knows now.)

She turns her face to kiss his ear. “My cat.” A kiss on the angle of his jaw. “My sap.” A kiss on the soft flesh of his cheek. “My love.”

**Author's Note:**

> jtm maman = i love you mum
> 
> on t'aime aussi bichette = we love you too [literally: little doe|common term of endearment in french]
> 
> let me kno what u think???? it's weird i kno


End file.
